


Folie à Deux

by your_starless_eyes



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Angst, Anxiety, Character Death, Depression, Doctors & Physicians, Drugs, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fights, Fist Fights, Guilt, Hospitalization, Insecurity, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Disintegration, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Name Calling, Oh My God, Original Character Death(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Third Person, POV Third Person Plural, Physical Restraint, Police, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Restraints, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Slurs, Suicide, Survivor Guilt, Swearing, Taunts, Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-03-27 05:49:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13874478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_starless_eyes/pseuds/your_starless_eyes
Summary: Phil didn't mean to do it.Dan did.Phil wants out.So does Dan.They have certain things in common and things different, but the big thing holding them together is their location.Green Oaks Hospital For Mental And Behavioural Health.How they got there, what they do while there, and how they get out is all here for you to read.*i try to update this semi-frequently but it's really emotionally draining to write*





	1. Addicted To The Wind As It Blows Me Back And Forth (Mindless, Spineless, Pretend)

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Folie à Deux.
> 
> This is a harshly realistic work of fiction based on my own experiences with hospitals. It is not pretty. I do not promise anything, not even a happy ending.
> 
> It is very loosely based off an earlier work of mine, [Summertime Sadness](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12633711/chapters/28786917%20).
> 
> There will be mentions of things such as suicide, depression, self-harm, rape and other difficult topics. I will put warnings in the summary of each chapter. Please read at your own risk.
> 
> *Disclaimer*  
> I do not cast aspirations on Daniel Howell or Phil Lester, nor any person(s) related to or affiliated with them. This is a work or fiction and all persons are used fictitiously.  
> I do not claim to be a medical professional, either. I know very little of diagnosis criteria, and while I aim to keep this story as realistic as possible, there may be mistakes. Please do not use any of the medical procedures in this story to diagnose people in your life, and contact a medical professional if you have any concerns regarding either your own mental health or that of a loved one.
> 
> All that being sad, please enjoy.
> 
> All the best,  
> Phanwich ♡

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil's backstory, detailing how he ended up here and giving scope to his personality and health.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings-  
> Suicide  
> Character death (not major)  
> Police encounters  
> Hospitalization
> 
> ~~~
> 
> Chapter title from-
> 
> Addict With A Pen  
> Twenty One Pilots  
> Twenty One Pilots  
> 2009

_**Folie à deux** (French for " **madness of two** "), or shared psychosis, is a psychiatric syndrome in which symptoms of a delusional belief and sometimes hallucinations are transmitted from one individual to another._

* * *

 “I can’t- I don’t want to do this anymore!” Victoria sobs into Phil’s shoulder. He hugs her tightly, breathing in the scent of her flowery perfume as he tries to form a response.

“Shh,” he finally whispers, his tone soft and soothing. “It’ll all be okay.”

“I’m so tired,” she whispers, pulling back and wiping her eyes. “I’m so- so fucking tired of try- of trying, of living.” Phil is silent, forming a response in his head as he stares at the wall behind Victoria.

He never looks her in the eye.

He's done so exactly two times since they met six months ago, but Victoria doesn't care. She’s blind to Phil’s faults, and for that he is grateful.

“Then stop,” Phil says quietly. Victoria stares blankly at Phil, who looks down. “If you want to die, take matters into your own hands.”

“I’d be without you,” Victoria whimpers, “forever.” Phil shakes his head, his hair falling into his eyes as he looks up.

“Not forever,” he argues. “Only until my own death. Then it’d be just like old times, Vic.”

“I don’t ever want to be without you,” Victoria tells him softly, taking Phil’s hands in her own. “You’re the only person I’ve got.”

“Then I’ll do it with you,” Phil offers, standing up. He offers his hand, helping her to her feet.

“Do you really mean-” Victoria's voice cuts out as Phil nods. "You would do that, for me?"

"Of course," Phil assures her. "There's nothing in this deadbeat world for me anyway."

"God, Phil," Victoria breathes, looking at at him in awe. "You're the most amazing person in the world. I love you." Phil smiles, looking down bashfully.

What Victoria doesn't know is his pink-tinged cheeks, overgrown hair, sparkling blue eyes and innocent air conceal a clever mind, which has a far more sinister agenda than she's aware of.

"I'm really not," he argues, hugging her tightly. Phil can't keep the smirk off his lips any longer, so he hides his face in her hair, under the pretense of nervous energy.

It takes a moment, but he carefully repaints the mask of calm and collected sanity before pulling back.

"You are," Victoria assures him. Her dark hair falls into her eyes, so Phil carefully brushes the strands out of her face.

"Believe whatever you like, Vic," he murmurs, "but it does not and never will detract from the truth."

* * *

 Phil takes a deep breath as he and Victoria peer over the edge of the roof.

“You're sure you want to do this?” Victoria asks, taking Phil's hand. He squeezes reassuringly, and smiles gently at her.

“Of course,” he answers softly. “There's no one else I'd rather die with.”

“Then let’s do it,” Victoria tells him. Phil nods, stepping onto the edge of the roof.

"Let's," he agrees. "On three?"

"On three," Victoria confirms. "One..."

"Two..." Phil continues, his heart rate picking up.

"Three!"

Three things happen.

First, Phil steps back as Victoria jumps forward. Second, Phil releases her hand. Finally, Victoria falls.

The result: Victoria is dead, and Phil is not.

Phil has no idea what went through his mind, but he’s not too upset, he realises.

In fact, he’s almost relieved.

One less person to deal with, one more relationship terminated without the pain and general disaster to deal with, though Phil wouldn’t have been too heartbroken to have broken up with her either. He only stayed because he liked the idea of someone looking up to him, ignorant of his past and of his thoughts and wishes. Victoria would have been incredibly upset, though, and Phil is thankful he doesn't have to deal with it all.

He should be crying, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to shed tears over a girl of all things.

Phil peers over the edge of the roof, watching the bystanders scramble around. He hears the sirens in the distance, but it’s too late- anyone can see it.

“Stupid,” Phil murmurs, shaking his head. He slides into a crouch against the wall of the roof, resting his head against his knees as he ponders what to do.

He should leave. He should get away from this place as quickly as possible and never look back.

Phil scoffs as he hears the police and paramedics stop beneath him.

_You can’t escape, Phil. You’re trapped, like a rat, and now you’re going to pay for what you’ve done._

He laughs. This whole situation is so fucking ridiculous.

This doesn’t happen in real life.

_Or does it?_

* * *

It isn’t as bad as Phil thought it would be, surprisingly.

Yes, he’s in the back of a squad car in handcuffs, but no one’s used the words “arrest” or “charge” yet, and that’s definitely a good sign.

“We’re detaining you for now,” a male officer had explained, “so we can figure out what’s going on. You’re not in any trouble as of yet.”

Phil stares out the window as the car pulls into the station, mentally preparing for the worst.

The police are kind, but stern. No nonsense, Phil deems it. They have a job, and they do it.

“So, what were you doing on that rooftop?” a female officer asks, removing his handcuffs and motioning for Phil to sit. Arietta, her badge reads. Phil rubs his wrists where the handcuffs were on, trying to form an appropriate response. “Don’t lie, Phil. Just tell me exactly what happened.”

“She wanted to die,” Phil explains simply.

"And why were you there?" Arietta asks. Phil doesn't have a good answer. "Phil, you need to talk to me. I can help you, but to do that, I need you to help me first. We haven't said anything about charging you- yet. If you want to keep a clean record, you need to start talking. There aren't too many options; you and I both know that."

"I was going to jump with her." Phil's voice is strained, as if it physically pains him to say it. "I told her I would."

"But you didn't," the officer points out. Phil swallows nervously, shaking his head.

"No," he acknowledges. "I didn't."

"Was it a suicide pact?" the officer who brought him here asks. Phil glances at his tag. Timothy.

"Not technically," Phil answers carefully.

"Not technically?" Arietta asks. "What do you mean?"

"We agreed to do it together, but we never shook on it or signed any agreement or anything," Phil continues, beginning to panic as he realises what they're getting at. "It was all verbal."

"Phil, have you ever had any kind of suicidal ideation before?" Timothy asks quietly. Phil shakes his head quickly.

"No!" he cries. "Never!"

"Phil, please calm down," Arietta requests. Phil takes a deep breath, but he's still shaking.

"This wasn't meant to happen," he begs. "I don't know what went through my head. I should've jumped with her, I know, but we counted off and my body went backwards as she fell forward. It wasn't a conscious choice, I swear."

"You should've told someone she was feeling that way, Phil, not offered to go with her," Timothy tells him sternly. Phil nods, looking down.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you are, but that's not going to bring her back," Arietta says quietly. "Stand up, please." Phil looks up, his jaw dropped in shock.

"No," he breathes. "Please, you can't-"

"Stay calm, Phil," Timothy requests, directing Phil's wrists to behind his back and handcuffing them together. "It's going to be fine, Phil, I promise." He looks at Arietta. "I'll take him. You write the report."

"No!" Phil shrieks, trying to pull free. "It's not fine!"

"Phil, you're not under arrest, I promise," Arietta assures him. She steps in front of him and lowers his voice, her tone calm and soothing. "You're not in trouble. We're going to get you help, okay?"

Phil's manipulated enough people to know when it's being done to him, though.

"Like hell!" he spits, yanking against Timothy's hold on his arms.

"If you can't calm down you're going to get yourself into trouble, Phil," Timothy warns. "I don't want to have to treat you as hostile, but if I have to, don't think I won't."

"No!" Phil wails, his eyes tearing up as Timothy leads him out of the station and into a squad car again. "Please!"

"Phil, please relax," Timothy pleads. "I promise you're not under arrest or being charged with anything."

"I am in the back of a squad car in handcuffs and you're trying to tell me I'm not under arrest?" Phil shouts angrily. "I'm a lot of things, Officer, but stupid isn't one of them! Don't fucking lie to me!"

"You're in the back of the car because legally you're not allowed in the front, and in handcuffs because you're currently either mentally or emotionally unstable- or both," Timothy explains. "I'm taking you to Green Oaks, that's all." Phil freezes, stopping pulling against his metal restraints.

"You're kidding," Phil whispers, his voice breaking. "You can't take me there."

"Phil, you were ready to commit suicide," Timothy points out. "You backed out of a pact and caused the death of your girlfriend, and you seem to have no remorse for that fact. Something isn't right."

"Why- because I'm not crying over a girl who jumped off a fucking building?" Phil shouts, angry tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. "Maybe that's because I know death happens to everyone! No one is exempt, so why sob over one person who was going to die anyway? It's not like I killed her!"

"This coversation is over," Timothy says sternly, and despite Phil's best attempts to reignite it, it dies and smokes, leaving Phil sedated and trapped in the fire of his mind.

* * *

 Phil can't believe this is happening. He can't believe he's officially having a court ordered psychiatric evaluation.

"This is complete bullshit," Phil mutters, his head in his hands as he stares out the shatter-proof window of the waiting room. The sun is hidden by clouds, but Phil can make out the edges of it, where it just barely peeks out as it sets beneath the horizon.

It hurts to know the outside world is so close and yet so far, and he's not even been officially admitted yet.

Phil chokes back a broken sob, blinking quickly as he stands up.

"Please sit back down," a nurse instructs him firmly. Phil almost retorts, but one look at the police officer to his left changes his mind. Phil really doesn't want to go back into those tight and uncomfortable handcuffs. His shoulders still ache and his wrists are rubbed raw, so he sits on the edge of his seat.

And waits for his verdict.

* * *

It comes, as expected. Phil really didn't think he'd be able to talk his way out of this one.

You have a couple- a girl and her boyfriend- aiming to jump off a building together. The girl jumps where the boy does not. The girl dies, and the boy hardly reacts.

There are very few possibilities.

First, the boy is suicidal, but backed out of the pact.

Second, the boy pushed her and is therefore homicidal.

Third, the boy is in shock, indicating a need for therapy or counseling.

Fourth, the boy has an undiagnosed mental health issue of his own, and that's why he's not reacting.

Phil knows the choice was made the second his story was relayed to the police. The doctor explains it to him anyway.

He's here until the doctors say he can leave, under court order. A minimum of three weeks. Every single thing he does affects his discharge date. It can be brought forward after the initial three weeks, or pushed back. He's expected to go to therapy and other treatments as instructed, and expected to take medications as prescribed, if applicable. His diagnosis will be explained to him by a doctor come morning, and a treatment plan created.

Phil doesn't react.

Nothing he can say can fix this mess, so all he can do is wade through it and hope he escapes the oceans his actions have created without drowning.


	2. Fell Out Of Bed; Butterfly Bandage, But Don't Worry (You'll Never Remember, Your Head Is Far Too Blurry)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil feels like he's going crazy in this hospital, and he's losing his grip on himself more and more with each passing day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> ~Brief physical violence  
> ~Brief homicidal thoughts  
> ~Physical restraint  
> ~Drugs (medical)
> 
>  
> 
> So sorry about the delay. This chapter was... kind of emotionally draining for me to write, but it's done, and I'm very sorry about the long wait. I'm going to try to keep this work as consistent as possible, but the weekly update thing isn't going to work. Still, I'll do my best to get one out every other week, at least. Also, Dani totally missed the email when I sent it and neglected to post it for several weeks- I sent it on April 12th. (BY THE WAY HI I'M DANI I'M SUPER SORRY ABOUT THAT)  
> Hope you enjoy, despite all that.  
> Come follow me on Instagram for proof I'm alive and working: @cosmologicaldan  
> (@dimstarlitnights is my art/photography account now.)  
> ~Phanwich
> 
> ***
> 
> Chapter title from
> 
> Disloyal Order Of Water Buffalos  
> Fall Out Boy  
> Folie á Deux  
> 2008

Phil stares out the window, watching the rain streak down the panes.

It’s been only days, but it feels like forever.

Time hasn’t a meaning anymore, and neither has Phil.

He’s surprisingly okay with that, though.

***

 

**October 22nd, 2012**

“Arthur, Paul, Philip, and Samuel,” a nurse calls, “you have visitors.” Phil looks up curiously, frowning slightly.

“Who?” he questions. The nurse glances at the paper, reading the names.

“Your father, mother, and brother,” she answers. Phil nods, standing. A technician- Will, Phil recalls- takes him aside gently. Phil yanks his arm back, shaking his head.

“Don’t touch me,” he growls. “Don’t.”

“Sorry,” Will apoligises, but Phil isn’t sure he means it. “I just wanted to remind you that you don’t have to agree to see visitors.”

“I know that,” Phil replies curtly. “I’m choosing to see them, of my own free will. Unless you don’t want me to?”

“No, that’s not-” Will exhales sharply, seemingly exasperated. “Only do it if you’re ready,” he advises. “The first visit is always stressful- for both the visitors and the patient. If you need to, you can come back; you have to right to send them home. It could set you back if something happens, so I don’t recommend you risk it.”

“I’m not risking anything,” Phil snaps, feeling his blood boil. “I know these people, and I know them well. I know myself. I appreciate the concern and all, but I can take care of myself- I’m not a child.”

“I didn’t mean to-” Will begins, but Phil cuts him off.

“Well, you did and you are,” he responds coldly, “so, for your sake, stop.” Phil turns, grabbing his laceless sneakers from outside his door and pulling them on. He stops outside the window, using it as a sort of mirror, adjusting his glasses and smoothing his hair. He knows he doesn’t look awful, but he’s keenly aware of the fact that he doesn’t look quite right either.

He just isn’t sure what’s wrong.

Phil shakes his head, frowning at his reflection and joining the others by the door.

The small group makes its way through many locked doors, through the long barren halls in silence. Eventually, the cafeteria door is opened, and the group breaks up as each finds their visitor- or visitors.

Phil’s blue eyes land on his, and immediately his stomach twists. His mouth goes dry, his chest tightens, but still, he decides to press on.

“H-hi,” he greets, sitting down across from his family. “How are you?”

“We’ve been better,” Martyn sighs, giving him a small smile. Phil bites his lip, nodding.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Me too.”

“Then why would you do this?” Phil looks up in shock as his father addresses the elephant in the room. Phil knew the question would be weighing on the back of their minds. It’s been on his. He didn’t expect to have it brought into the light, though.

“I don’t know!” he cries. “I don’t even know what I did!”

“Phil, please,” Kathryn says quietly. “Calm down.”

“Shut up!” Phil shouts, his eyes watering. He covers his face, drawing in a deep breath as he tries in vain to calm himself down.

“You’re okay,” Martyn soothes, touching Phil’s shoulder gently.

Phil can’t explain the sudden reaction. He can’t explain what happens, or why he does it- he has no idea. He just reacts before he can even realise what he’s doing, and he can’t stop it.

Quick as a whip, Phil grabs Martyn’s wrist and yanks him down, forcing him to the table with a loud sound.

“Let go of me,” Martyn tells Phil, his tone carefully measured.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” Phil replies through gritted teeth.

“Philip Michael Lester, let go of your brother.” Phil growls, and for a second there’s a war inside his head.

_You could kill him._

_No, I don’t want to-_

_Yes, you do._

_No, I don’t! Shut up! He’s my brother, my family-_

_You can, you should-_

_-and it is a horrible thing to even be considering killing anyone at all!_

_You’ve already killed one person._

_That wasn’t-_

_So what’s another?_

_No, no no no. I’m not-_

_Yes, I am that kind of person._

_I’m not I’m not I’m not-_

_Apparently I am, because if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here._

_No, it was an accident!_

_Maybe it’s better I’m locked up._

_No, I shouldn’t be-_

_Yes, I should be. One person has already died, and-_

_-I’m not a killer I’m not a killer I’m not a-_

_...but what if I am?_

Phil’s grip on Martyn’s arm tightens, but this time it’s out of fear rather than anger.

“Phil, are you okay?” Kathryn asks. Phil casts a terrified glance at her, but nods, forcing himself to let go of Martyn. He sits back down and buries his head beneath his arms, refusing to come out until it’s time to go back to the unit.

This entire affair is a total disaster.

***

**November 18th, 2012**

The other patients are gone, doing pet therapy, if Phil recalls correctly. It was some form of therapy, he knows. He doesn’t want to today, and the nurses and techs know better than to make him by this point.

Phil has made it absolutely clear he won’t be forced into much of anything.

After what feels like hours of numbly staring at the wall, he finally stands up and walks towards the nurse’s station, leaning over the counter nonchalantly.

"Mind if I go to my room?" he asks a nurse quietly. The nurse looks up from her stack of papers, but she nods.

"Yes, of course," she answers. She walks with Phil to his room, unlocking it. "You know the rules, Philip. I'll come check on you in ten minutes." She leaves, and Phil rolls his eyes.

"Fucking hospitals and their fucking rules," he mutters. He sits on his bed and stares at the wall, glaring.

_I want out I want out want out._

Phil lets out a stifled sound of frustration, pulling at his hair as he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, the coppery taste of iron filling his mouth. He feels like a trapped rat in here, following the exact same goddamn schedule every single goddamn day.

_It isn't fair it isn't fair it isn't fair._

He stands, grabbing a book from the bolted down table and throwing it as hard as he can against the wall before stepping into the corner and resting his head against it. Suddenly he slams his head against the concrete wall, screaming out of emotional distress rather than physical pain. He does it again again again- it feels nice, distracts him from himself. Someone suddenly grabs his shoulder and yanks him away from the wall, and Phil growls lowly as his eyes meet another's.

"Hey, what's going on?" a tech asks calmly. Phil shoves him away. "Phil, I need to calm down, okay?"

"Get the hell away from me!" Phil screeches, slamming his hand against the wall. The tech grabs his wrist, and Phil snaps.

Without hesitation, he slaps the man, leaving a bright red mark across his face as he staggers backwards.

Phil gasps, his eyes wide with horror as he realises what he’s done, shrinking back into the corner.

“No, I didn’t-” Phil can hardly breathe as he hears the words he’s been dreading, but anticipating all the same.

_“Code ten!”_

Code ten - psychological emergency. Often, it’s used for physically violent patients, those who have been triggered, the ones who are dangerous to themselves, patients who have gone into a catatonic state, or those who are simply not in a rational frame of mind.

And Phil’s seen what happens next when it’s called due to the violent ones.

“Please,” he begs as a small group of technicians step in to the room, keeping his back to the wall. “I didn’t- I shouldn’t- I-I-”

“Did he hit you?” a nurse asks, looking over the male technician’s jaw. He nods, and Phil swallows nervously. She looks at Phil with a disappointed expression, shaking her head.

“I don’t want trouble,” Phil tells her seriously, glancing at her badge. Rose, it reads. If only he could get ahold of it- then he’d get out of this place and isolate himself.

Phil is sure the only way he can truly keep others safe from himself is to not interact with them. Every time he tries to be normal, something tips. He convinces others to hurt themselves, then he sweet talks his way out of punishment. He doesn’t enjoy it, but he can’t help himself. The curiosity is far too enticing for him to ignore the temptation. So he gives in to the little voice that nags at the back of his head, night and day, sedating it with just enough harm. It stays quiet in exchange, but Phil knows that one day only hurting someone won’t be enough. One day, it’ll demand blood, and he will be powerless to stop it.

Phil knows he’s a monster, but the rest of humanity seems to refuse to accept that fact.

“Phil, you know the rules by now,” Rose tells him. “Come on out; you can’t be alone.” Phil backs up further, standing on his toes in an attempt to make himself seem bigger. “Do not make this into a fight, Philip, because you will lose.”

“I don’t want trouble,” Phil repeats, his eyes sweeping over the small group in front of him. “I really don’t.”

“Then do as you’re told,” Megan, one of the female techs, instructs him. Phil hears the doors open, hears the sound of eight men chatting about everything and anything as they re-enter the unit.

“No,” Phil whispers. “You don’t know what I could do. You don’t know what I have done, what I will do. If you had any concern for the wellbeing of the others, you would keep me far away from them. You would be doing all of the world a favour if you killed me, but you won’t, because you’re afraid.”

“You just got yourself a one-to-one,” Rose informs him.

“I don’t care,” Phil replies numbly. “It’s the truth.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Will sighs. “Phil, you have to the count of five. If you’re not out of this room by then, we’re forcibly dragging you out. I know you don’t like to be touched, so I’m giving you a chance to remove yourself peaceably.”

“I won’t go near the others,” Phil snaps, his tone suddenly changing from flat to intense. “If you touch me, I won’t be responsible for what I do, but I will not allow myself the chance to hurt the others for the sake of your job.”

“Then so be it,” Rose sighs. “You had your shot.”

Will grabs Phil’s wrists, pulling him from the corner. Phil screams, trying to yank free, but the technician’s grip on him is too tight.

“Let go!” Phil cries. “Let go of me!”

“Shit!” Will swears as Phil kicks him in the shin. His grip slackens only slightly, but it’s all Phil needs. He yanks his arm free and swings, hitting the man in the face. Someone grabs him from behind, forcing his wrists behind his back.

“Stop it!” Phil shrieks, trying to keep himself upright as he’s shoved to his knees.

“Get him on the ground,” Megan calls. “Rose, we’re going to need hydroxyzine, seventy-five milligrams via injection.”

“Got it,” the nurse agrees, quickly exiting the room.

“Don’t you dare,” Phil snarls as she returns, a syringe in her hand, still fighting the man behind him. “Don’t you fucking _dare!_ ”

“Hold him still,” Rose instructs, uncapping the tip. Phil kicks harder, unwilling to go down without a fight. “Megan, get his legs! Will, help Brandon with- he’s slipping!” Phil manages to free an arm, smacking the syringe out of Rose’s hand violently. “Hold him down for God’s sake!” Rose snaps, reaching for the medication. Will snags Phil’s arms, twisting and forcing him on to his stomach, Brandon helping keep him there. Megan has a hold of his legs at the ankles, effectively keeping him from escaping the restraining grip of the technicians.

“Let go!” Phil shouts, squirming uncomfortably. “Let go!”

“Time is 17:32,” Rose says aloud, readying the medication. She tugs up Phil’s shirt sleeve, sticking the needle into his arm and injecting the drug quickly. She recaps the syringe, standing.

“How much longer can we hold him?” Will asks through gritted teeth, a light bruise beginning to blossom on his pale skin from when Phil hit him.

“Two more minutes,” Megan answers, glancing at her watch. “I don’t think we’ll have to, though.”

“Let… go of me,” Phil demands, his tone sharp. “Get the hell off of me!”

“Give it about another minute,” Rose advises, keeping an eye on the time.

Sure enough, Phil feels the fire slowly drain from his bones as the drug does it’s job, leaving him exhausted. The technicians let go of him, but Phil does nothing aside from curl up a bit.

“Please,” he whispers, covering his face. “Leave me alone.”

“You’re on a one-to-one,” Megan reminds him quietly. “I’ll take first shift,” she tells the others. “Will, go get ice on your face.

"I'll fill out the restraint package." Rose exits the room, and a few minutes later, the overhead speakers crackle to life.

_"Code ten in PICU resolved. Code ten in PICU resolved."_

"Why don't you lie down for a bit?" Megan suggests. Phil looks up from the floor, sighing tiredly.

"I don't want to," he answers, but stands anyway. He sits on the edge of his bed, not bothering to change out of his t-shirt and jeans. Setting his glasses on the edge of the nightstand, he curls up beneath the knit blanket, crying silently.

 _I hate everything,_ he thinks as he slowly drifts off to sleep.

 _No_ , he decides. _I hate_ me. _Not everything, just me._

***

When Phil opens his eyes several hours later, he feels incredibly tired. His hip aches as he turns towards the door. He can see two techs in the doorway, talking to each other.

"...the poor kid," the male technician is saying. "He's got a good chance, if we can just convince him life's not all meaningless."

"And putting him with Lester is the way to do that?" the woman asks. "He's got a way with words, Phil does. He could convince anybody of anything, and you’ve seen that, but I don't think he'll do this kid any good."

"Phil... is a special case," the man says carefully. "It's going to take some time, but he'll get better. Trust me."

"How long until Howell gets here?" the female tech asks.

"They're doing intake on him right now. Said it should be about ten minutes before he gets in." Phil turns back towards the window, staring out it and looking at the dim starlit night sky.

_A new person, hmm?_

_No,_ Phil argues with himself. _I won’t do it._

_You’ve said that a million times before, the little voice in the back of his head reminds him, but you always do._

_He has a chance. Let him take it._

_If he listens to you, he never really had one to begin with. Any sane person would stay away._

_Any sane person wouldn’t be having a conversation with themselves over harming or killing another human being. A sane person would recognise that each person has issues. A sane person would know each person deserves a chance to fix them and live a good life to the best of their abilities. Yet, here I am. I don't think I'm really qualified to figure out who is “sane” and who is not._

_That’s a good point, actually_.

Phil pulls his blanket further over his head, willing himself to go back to sleep.

Whatever happens tomorrow happens.


	3. I've Got Troubled Thoughts And A Self Esteem To Match (What A Catch)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan arrives, but his intake isn't as smooth as he hopes, nor does it provide the outcome he hoped for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Depression  
> Implied rape/non-con  
> Referenced self harm
> 
> ***
> 
> Hello, hello!
> 
> After many weeks of stalling I've finally finished up this new chapter, yay.
> 
> As always, thank you all for being so patient and for all the love. Guess what, though! I can get on here via mobile data, which I have again. So, you'll likely be hearing from me more frequently.
> 
> Cool. Okay, you can read the chapter now.

Dan keeps his eyes on his hands, and his hands in his lap. He doesn't speak, opting to answer the doctor's questions with gestures and silence.

"What's your name, honey?" the doctor asks gently. Dan looks up and makes a series of signs. "Can you speak?" Dan nods. "Then can you use your words for me?" Dan shakes his head. "Do I need an interpreter?" Dan shrugs. "Okay, are you using sign language?" Dan nods again. "So I need an interpreter, then." Dan doesn't make any form of response this time, returning his attention to his hands. "Stay here for me one second." The doctor stands and exits the small room, closing the door. Dan scowls.

" _Stay here_." Where the hell is he going to go? To the waiting room where all the other patients are waiting for intake? Dan already doesn't like them and he hasn't even been here for more than half an hour.

The door swings open and the doctor returns with a man.

"Hello," the man greets, extending his hand to Dan. Dan just continues to stare at his hands, watching out of his peripheral vision. "Can you hear me, sir?" Dan nods. "Okay, well, I'm Tyler. I'm going to be your translator for right now, alright?" Dan nods.

"What's your name?" the doctor asks. Dan gives his response.

"Daniel James Howell," Tyler answers. Dan adds in a couple more signs. "Dan or Daniel is fine, he says."

"Alright," the doctor muses, writing down his name. "I'm Doctor Kathleen, by the way," she adds with a small smile. Dan looks up, but he doesn't return it. "Why are you here, Daniel?" Tyler translates as Dan signs.

"He tried to slit his wrists," Tyler explains. "Suicide attempt." The corner of Dan's mouth twitches into almost a smile at that.

"Why?" Kathleen asks. Dan looks her straight in the eye as he speaks for the first time.

"Because it felt good," he answers, his voice slightly raspy and croaky from having not been used in a while. "It felt good and it distracted me from the nothingness I'm constantly stuck in. If it killed me, it was just a plus that it got me out of this shit world."

"Do you care to elaborate?" Kathleen asks.

Dan has retreated back into himself, though, and he refuses to speak for the rest of the intake, opting to sign answers- or not reply at all.

"Daniel, I think the best option here is to commit you, at least for a couple weeks," Kathleen finally says, closing the folder and setting her pen down. "The hospital staff that brought you here said the damage you did to your right arm is bad, and it required stitches. They also said you were sullen and uncooperative, refusing to speak." Dan raises an eyebrow, and even without signing his meaning is clear.

_You needed them to tell you that? How stupid are you?_

"Your parents have already agreed to whatever we deem as appropriate action," Kathleen continues. Dan glares. "I'm sorry, but we have no other choice, Dan." She checks a sheet. "PICU has a space open right now. I'll walk you back, alright?" Dan just stands and walks to the door, not even looking at the doctor. "Thank you, Tyler."

"No problem," he replies. "Good luck, Daniel. You can do it, kid." Kathleen leads Dan back into the waiting room and through the doors to the hallway. He casts a glance back at the clear doors leading outside. It's tempting to go for them, but he's not stupid. They're locked and shatter-proof, he's sure.

"It'll be okay," Kathleen assures him. "Your roommate is a man named Phil Lester. He's..." She falters as she tries to put together the words. "He's an interesting character," she finally decides. Dan nods, biting his lip as he catches the meaning behind her words. "Come along, then." Kathleen unlocks a set of doors and Dan follows her through them, watching as they close and relock.

Well, there went my one shot at freedom, Dan thinks bitterly.

Through several more sets of locked doors they walk, Kathleen attempting at conversation every once in a while. Dan doesn't reply- he's too busy mapping out the building in his head, just in case he manages to escape. It's useful information, anyway. Finally she leads him into a wide room with a single hallway, doors on each side. Most of them are shut, a few open, and one with someone sitting in the doorway.

"Who's this?" a man asks, giving Dan a smile. Dan doesn't return it.

"This is Daniel Howell," Kathleen introduces.

"Hi, Daniel," the man greets. "I'm Kyle." No reply. Kyle turns to Kathleen. "Is he deaf?"

"No, but good luck getting him to talk," she replies. "You'll need an interpreter most of the time. Seems to prefer sign language to vocal response." Kyle nods.

"Well, before we can let you go to bed, we need a urine sample," he says. "We need to run drug tests and make sure you're healthy. After that, you're free to go to sleep." He hands Dan a cup. "Bathroom is the first door to your left." Dan frowns as Kathleen follows him and stands outside the bathroom door, but he doesn't object. He shuts the door and quickly does as he's told, washing his hands before walking out and handing Kyle the cup. He sets it in a small bucket labeled 'lab' before pulling off his rubber gloves and dropping them in a trashcan. He picks up a plastic bracelet, motioning towards Dan's arm. Sighing, Dan holds out his left wrist, letting Kyle clip the bracelet in place. A quick glance tells Dan it contains his name, birth date, and a long string of numbers that mean nothing to him.

"Well, let me show you to your room," Kyle offers. "You're probably tired." He leads Dan to the room with a woman and a man outside it. "This is Darlene," he says, gesturing towards the woman. The man seems to be watching someone inside, and doesn’t offer Dan an introduction. Not that Dan cares.

"Hi," she says, waving. "I'm your one-to-one." Dan blinks. "You're new, so for the first twenty four hours you'll have someone within arms length at all times. After that, we'll leave you alone most of the time, check on you once every fifteen minutes or so, unless we think you might be a danger to yourself or others. Then a one-to-one could last anywhere from one hour to a week. While on one-to-one, you won't be able to leave the unit, but it's not because you did anything wrong. We just want to keep you safe, that's all." Dan nods.

"Is Phil awake?" Kyle asks quietly as Dan enters the room.

"Doesn't look like it," the other man answers, his voice also low. "Don't worry. He won't be able to talk to him, at least not for a bit." Dan stops, his eyes taking in the figure in the bed to his right. He catches a glimpse of clear blue eyes and a small smile. Dan smiles involuntarily back as he sits in his own bed, lying down. His wrist aches and he's tired, but the stress of the day makes it hard to sleep. Eventually, he does drift off.

The sun is coming up too early, and Dan groans as someone touches his shoulder to wake him.

"Hey," a young lady says quietly. "Can I bother you for a moment? We need blood samples." He sighs, but stands. Phil's bed is empty, he notices. "I'm Hailey," the girl introduces. "I'm your one-to-one until three." Dan nods, sitting in the chair she gestures to. "Can you pull up your sleeve for me?" Dan does, and he almost laughs at Hailey's expression.

His arm is covered in scars, most of which are old and faded. A large bandage covers most of his wrist, concealing six stitches. Hailey composes herself quickly as an older woman with greying hair enters the room.

"Daniel Howell?" she asks. Dan nods. "I'm just going to take some blood real quick and I'll be out of your hair." Dan nods again as the woman readies a needle, letting her poke it into his arm. He watches as blood flows through the tube into a long container, watches as she switches them out a couple times. Within a minute she's done, pulling out the needle and putting a small bandage over the crook of his elbow. "All done." She packs up the test tubes and exits the unit.

"Hey there," a low voice greets. Dan looks up as a tall man at least a couple years older than himself sits down beside him. Dan swallows as he takes him in.

He's attractive, to say the least, with his pale skin and dark hair. His eyes are an icy blue, with green and yellow mixed in- breathtakingly beautiful, Dan’s mind supplies unhelpfully- behind black glasses. The corners of his mouth are turned up in what seems to be a permanent, but reassuring all the same, smirk.

Despite his casual attitude and lack of similarities to a serial killer, something about him just seems… a bit off, though. Dan can’t quite put his finger on it.

"Take a picture, love," the man says, crossing his long legs at the ankles. "It lasts longer." Dan blushes, staring at his hands.

"Phil," Hailey says, a note of warning in her voice. "You know the rules about boundaries and flirting.”

"Fuck the rules," Phil spits, the words sudden and unexpected.

"That's not acceptable language," a tech calls.

"I didn’t say anything," Phil calls lightly, and Dan is surprised by how quickly he changes his tone and demeanor. The tech frowns, but he doesn't say anything more.

Phil strikes Dan as a dangerous- or at least manipulative- character, but there's something about him that makes Dan want to know him better.

"Phil, why don't you find something else to do?" Hailey suggests. "Go read or something until everyone else is up."

"Oh, but where's the fun in that?" Phil asks, licking his lips. "Is it such a crime to want to get to know the person I'm rooming with?" Hailey falters as she thinks about what he's said.

"I-I suppose not," she allows.

"Do you have a name?" Phil asks, turning his chair to face Dan and leaning forward. Dan doesn't answer. "Oh, do you not speak?" No reply. "That’s fine."

 _I do speak, and believe me I have a number of things I’d like to say to you_ , Dan thinks.

"I saw that," Phil whispers, his smirk becoming more noticeable. "So you can talk, then. Just want to be difficult?" Dan presses his lips together, looking up and meeting Phil's eyes for a second. "Well, aren't you going to introduce yourself?"

 _It's a trap_ , Dan tells himself. _Don't take the bait_.

He shakes his head, his brown hair falling in his face. Phil's blue eyes harden- he's not used to being told no, Dan realises.

"Let's try this again," Phil suggests, his tone taking a different rhythm and adopting a slight lilt. "My name is Phil Lester, and you are?"

It would be so easy to just say "Dan" and get him to back off. One syllable. That's all Dan has to give and he'll have a second to himself (sort of, anyway).

Phil hums impatiently, and Dan finally forces the words out.

"Dan," he whispers, glaring at Phil. "My name is Daniel." Phil smiles, licking his lips.

"Daniel," he repeats, saying the name as if trying it out on his tongue. "That fits you perfectly, love." Dan bites his tongue, his face burning. "Well, I look forward to getting to... know you better." Phil stands and walks back to the room, leaving Dan feeling small and inadequate.

"So you do talk," Hailey says nonchalantly. Dan doesn't reply. "I was wondering if you actually did or if Kat was making it up." No response. "You have a nice voice. Why don't you speak, Daniel?"

Why doesn't he speak normally?

That's... a long story, to say the least, but Dan doesn't want to tell it to her.

As a younger child, he had a tendency to say whatever came to mind, when it came to mind. It caused a lot of problems within his family, within his friendships. The way he saw it, a lie of omission was as bad as saying something wholly untrue. He couldn't comprehend what was acceptable and appropriate to say and what was not.

So, after getting beat up by a boy he thought was his friend following a confession, he finally gave up on talking. Sign language meant he had to really think about what he was saying, and most people couldn't understand it at all. He was far less likely to offend someone that way, which was a definite plus. He still spoke around his family- save when he got upset with them- and a few close friends, but to most of the world, Daniel Howell didn't talk. Eventually it got to the point where Dan physically had to make the effort to speak, where it became almost impossible to talk to the people he didn't know.

It made him a target at times, yes, but overall, the pros outweigh the cons.

Except that one time he couldn't say a word when his life depended on it.

_"What's your name, gorgeous?"_

_"Look at him, all wide eyed and innocent."_

_"You waiting for a client to pick you up, slut?"_

_"Bet he can't even talk."_

_"Good."_

"Daniel, are you okay?" Hailey asks, touching his shoulder gently. Dan jumps, looking up at her with wide eyes. He feels sick, but nods anyway.

The less these people know about him, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phan/memes/writing Instagram: instagram.com/cosmologicaldan 
> 
> Art/photography Instagram: instagram.com/dimstarlitnights
> 
> Quotev: quotev.com/dimstarlitnights 
> 
> Twitter: twitter.com/cosmologicaldan


	4. I Won't Stand In Your Way (Let Your Hatred Grow)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day isn't as smooth as Dan would have liked- and that's a huge understatement. Meanwhile, Phil finds that he's struggling to keep his promise to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings ~
> 
> · Physical violence  
> · Physical restraint  
> · Seclusion  
> · Threats of violence

"Everyone line up for breakfast!" Abby calls. Phil rolls his eyes as he watches eight men- ranging from nineteen to twenty five- get in a line. "Phil, that includes you."

"Maybe I don't want breakfast," he retorts readily.

"You haven't eaten a thing in three days according to your chart," Abby tells him, flipping through a clipboard. "That's the maximum, Phil. You have to eat something."

"Or what?" Phil fires back.

"Or I call the nearest hospital and get them to treat you for malnutrition and screen you for a possible eating disorder," Abby replies. "After that, you come right back here and your treatment restarts." Phil growls, swearing under his breath. "Come on. Everyone else is waiting for you."

"Come on, man," Adam calls. "It's pancakes and bacon today."

"Oh, is it?" Phil sneers, giving a barking laugh. "Well, that changes everything, doesn't it?"

"Let everyone go eat," Abby says quietly to Kaleb. "I'm sensing a possible code and if it happens before they get out they won't be able to leave." Kaleb nods, leading the group out. The doors slam shut, and it's just Dan, Phil, Hailey, Abby and a few other techs and nurses.

"Go eat breakfast, kid," a tech sighs. Kevin, his badge reads. "You're not doing anybody a favour by starving yourself."

"I'm not hungry," Phil replies.

"That's what you've said for the past three days," Abby points out. "Please don't do this, not this early. Certainly not in front of the new patient."

"The new patient?" Phil repeats, turning to face Dan. "He's not even really new." Dan shrinks back, apparently intimidated. "Twenty one years old, but you've been in the adolescent unit before, I'm sure. How many times?" Dan shakes his head quickly.

 _No, you haven't seen me,_ he signs. _I haven't ever been here. First time in a mental hospital._

"Bullshit," Phil spits. Dan looks startled. "Yeah, I can read British sign language, Daniel. It was my foreign language. Bet you wish you'd known that before you spoke." Dan swallows nervously, his russet eyes darting back and forth between Phil and the door.

"Phil, that's enough!" Kevin shouts. "Leave him alone!"

"Not until he fucking answers my question!" Phil shouts back. It's like someone flipped a switch- where only seconds ago he was calm and collected, he is now the picture of anger and rage. "You can't lie to me, Howell!"

"I'm not!" Dan gasps out, forcing the words out despite the instinctive desire to stay silent. "I don't know who you're confusing me with; I've never been here!" Phil lunges for him, and Dan doesn't hesitate to stand up and get the hell back.

"Phil, get away from him!" Kevin shouts, grabbing Phil's shoulder and yanking him away. "Code ten! Code ten!"

"Code ten in PICU," a voice says over the speakers, "code ten in PICU."

"Get him out of here!" Kevin shouts as Phil pulls against him. Hailey tries to lead Dan past the squabble, but Phil manages to catch his arm. "Let go of him!"

_Whap!_

 

"You bitch!" Phil snarls as Dan smacks him in the face. His grip only tightens, and Dan's heart rate picks up.

_"Did we find a masochist?"_

_"If you like pain enough to inflict it on yourself, the least we can do is give it to you."_

Dan opens his mouth, but his mouth is dry as sawdust. He can't speak, can't do anything.

"Get him off!" Hailey shouts to the techs that have entered the unit. Phil digs harder into Dan's arm. The younger boy claws at him, his nails raking across Phil's face.

"I’ll kill you!" Phil screams as multiple people pull him back. Dan growls, punching at him. He hits Phil in the nose, and the older man’s blue eyes blaze with anger as his nose begins to bleed.

"Stop it, both of you!" a nurse orders, grabbing Dan by the wrist. Dan shrieks in pain as he feels her fingers dig into his healing wounds, and the nurse immediately releases him before shifting her grip to his upper arm.

"Somebody help me get Phil away from him!" Kevin cries, adjusting his grip on Phil’s arms.

"You’re not safe, Dan!" Phil sneers. "You’re not safe here- I’ll kill you myself if I have to!"

"I fucking dare you," Dan mutters, his voice tight and raspy. He laughs, the sound manic. It’s so fucking ridiculous, so illogical and backwards, that he can’t help but laugh. "Try me, bitch. We’ll find out exactly how tough you really are."

"Daniel, shut up!" Abby orders, her tone authoritative. Dan is taken aback by the sharpness of her voice, but he obeys all the same.

"You want to go?" Phil asks, lowering his voice to something reminiscent of a growl. Dan narrows his eyes.

"You'll lose," he whispers. "I promise."

Phil lunges for him again, and Dan does the same. Both are fighting against multiple people, but in each's eyes there's only the other.

"Fuck- you," Phil spits, kicking back. It's unclear as to who he's talking to.

Dan just snarls in response, his throat aching from overuse of his voice.

"Seclusion?" Kevin asks, panting fron the effort of holding Phil back.

"Yeah," Hailey agrees, looking a bit scared. "You guys take him; we have Dan."

"Oh, God," a tech groans. "I know how this goes with him. I don't get paid enough for this."

Someone yanks Phil back harshly by his arms, causing a small yelp of pain to escape his mouth. He quickly turns it back into a growl as he fights, but it doesn't matter. He's vastly outnumbered and outmatched. 

"Let _go_ of me!" Phil screams, twisting his body.

"If you weren't about to bloody _murder_ another patient, we would!" a female technician replies hotly. Phil's eyes meet Dan's, and the pair seem to reach a mutual understanding.

_I'm not fucking around- stay away from me and I'll keep away from you._

Dan looks away first, his chest still heaving with exertion. Phil finally lets the techs pull him into a small room with padded walls, not even bothering to move from the floor where he lands when they release and push him in. The door slams shut, the sound of the lock resonating through the air. Phil still doesn't move, staring at the floor.

_Oh God oh God oh God._

Phil's mind is running a mile a minute, so fast he can't even decipher half of what he's thinking. His eyes flick up to the camera capturing his every move from the corner of the ceiling, and he quickly looks down again.

 _You don't care_ , he reminds himself as he sits up and turns so that his back is to the door. He crosses his legs, resting his elbows against his knees and head in his hands as he closes his eyes.

_Think of what you did, and how I hope to God he was worth it._

Phil must sit there for hours- though he knows it's probably closer to one. Legal reasons keep the techs from leaving patients in seclusion for longer than that. He hears the others return, hears voices and the general noise that comes with having ten men in the same area. He hears techs speaking as they check in on him every few minutes, hears the sounds of pencils on paper.

Phil hears everything.

The only thing he doesn't hear is Dan.

He's about ninety percent sure the younger man is either doped up on some anxiety medication or locked in his own room, but either way it doesn't matter.

Still, Phil finds that he misses the sound of his voice. 

_It's pretty. Silken, almost. Like speaking in cursive- able to make even threats sound like a thing of beauty._

Phil's lips twitch into something like a smile. Daniel Howell in general is pretty, in an unconventional way and despite all the flaws.

_It's too bad you're incapable of falling in love, Phil._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!
> 
> I've been kinda putting off writing this lately, and I apologise. Other projects have been consuming me, ahhh, but I realise this is something I need to do and I promise I'm working on it.
> 
> Thank you for being patient, as always. <3


	5. The Only Thing Suicidal Here Is The Door (We Had A Good Run, Even I Have To Admit)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say, day one for Dan is not going well. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings
> 
> · Intrusive thoughts  
> · Non-conventional means of self injury.  
> · Graphic descriptions of blood and self injury  
> · Flashbacks
> 
> NOTE!
> 
> I don't even know how to word the flashback warning. It's incredibly complicated to explain but I wanted to address that. If I could include more specifics I would. Reader discretion is advised.

Dan yanks free of the nurse's grip, growling low and deep in his throat.

"None of that, Mister," she tells him sternly. "Sit your butt down and get yourself under control."

Dan has more than a couple smart-arse replies he'd like to give. However, with the way his throat burns and the borderline evil glare the nurse is giving him, he settles for glaring back and crossing his arms stubbornly. He doesn't sit.

"Don't sit, then," the nurse allows, "but don't act like a wild animal, either."

Dan just sneers.

_You've got a long fucking two weeks ahead of you, Howell._

***

Dan isn't sure how much time passes. He does know, though, when the thoughts begin worming into his head, burrowing into the most hidden parts of his mind. 

_Insane, insane, insane._

The word already fills Dan's head. He hates it. Who wouldn't?

He stretches his fingers, wincing at the pain in his wrists. Slowly, he lifts his sleeve, and quietly peels back the bandage.

Sutures made of black nylon-like thread taint his white lined skin. Dan runs a finger over them, keeping a watchful eye on the distracted nurse.

_Tear them out._

Dan blinks, shaking his head. Even so, his nails close around one of the small knots.

_They aren't your boss. Show them you can still do whatever you like._

There are other ways, Dan knows. Plenty of ways to rebel against the staff without damaging his wrists and arms further, but...

_Intrusive thoughts._

Dan tries to cling to those two words, to remind himself that  _it's not a good idea it's a horrible one ignore it oh God Daniel what are you-_

Dan yanks at the first knot, the thread breaking far easier than he expected it to. He exhales sharply, dropping the now-ruined suture to the floor. He closes his eyes, working solely by touch because he knows what his arm must look like without those small black stitches holding two pieces of cleanly sliced skin together. Something warm and sticky runs down his forearm. Dan opens his eyes just enough to see it.

Blood, painting red streaks on pale skin like a riverbed cutting through the ground. Drops slide off his wrist, landing on crisp white sheets like flowers blooming in the early dawn.

A perfectly horrible picture of the most beautiful kind of suffering.

_"If you like pain this much, the least we can do is give it to you."_

_"Hold him. We'll make the mute fucker scream."_

Dan's nails dig into his skin, breaking it further in patterns of small red crescent shapes.

All pain is self-inflicted. He's always believed that. If you don't let it hurt, it won't. If you do, it will. You _choose_ to let it hurt.

If all people hurt, in every way possible, daily...

...then it must be written in dark ink, somewhere in the deepest, most hidden parts of a human's soul, that all people _want_ to experience pain in some way.

_"Stop! Stop it, please!"_

_"So, she speaks."_

_"He; I'm a he, but- ah! Stop!"_

_"Did I ask?"_

_"N-no."_

_"Then follow your boy toy's example and keep your pretty little mouth shut. Only answer what you're told to. Do you understand?"_

_"I- yes."_

"Daniel, what are you-" The nurse stops, her eyes widening as she sees the bright red droplets harshly contrasting against stark white sheets. "Dan!"

Dan doesn't answer.

_clever boy, i have a few questions for you. where do we come in? who are you? who am i? where do you end and where do i begin? are you sure we're not the same? i think we are, or, at least, we could be._

_if you'd only let me in..._

Dan feels sharp teeth sink into the soft skin of his own lip, splitting it. Metallic blood meets his tongue.

He can smell it all. The thick scent of smoke and salty sweat. Something citrus-y. Wet pavement and congealing dried blood. 

_let me in, boy._

_i dare you._

He can feel it all. Sharp needles in his skin, scratchy fabric over his eyes, rough hands on his skin.

_that's it. good._

He can hear it all. Harsh taunts, mocking laughter. The sickening sound of metal cracking against bone makes his stomach turn, and he tastes bile.

_keep going. keep on going._

He can taste it all. Something sickly sweet melting on his tongue. Blood, sweat and tears create roadmaps on war zones made of split lips and broken skin.

As fucked up as it is, he almost likes this. He almost enjoys being held captive by memories. It feels like it gives him an excuse, a reason to be everything he is and avoid everything he is not.

 _..almost almost almost almostalmostalmost_...

Broken sobs escape wet lips, splitting the silent air like thunder.

He is all thunder and lightning and broken glass. He was he is he will be destruction of the worst kind, setting uncontrolled fire to centuries of work without a second thought.

In the blink of an eye he can turn.

In the blink of an eye he has turned.

In the blink of an eye he will turn.

Never to be trusted. Never to be out of sight.

_"Let's see how fierce you are here in a second, princess."_

_"Stop! Stop, please!"_

Dan isn't sure when the screaming starts, but it doesn't stop until a needle is piercing his hip and his eyelids begin to droop. Even then it continues weakly, volume dropping steadily until it is no longer.

_It. Hurts._

_that's because you're letting it_.

***

Dan still smells, hears, tastes, feels it all. It's just... different. 

Not good. Not bad. Different.

He can feel restraints over his wrists, holding him down. Hot breath taints his skin. Deep violet tints keep him blind. The scent of lemon and orange fills his nose. Some oddly familiar flavour rests on his tongue, but he can't recall it. 

Not peace. Not panic.

Something in between.

 _Sated_.

Dan sighs, trying to move, but it's far too much effort. He settles for watching the gauzy lavender hues move over his eyes.

_"Please!"_

_"One, two..."_

_"Stop! Let go, you-"_

_"Your prince isn't coming, darling."_

_"Stop calling me that!"_

_"Unless you're meant to be her prince, silent boy?"_

_"Leave him alone. Leave Dan out of this. He hasn't done a thing."_

_"Oh, so the mute has a name. Daniel. How beautiful. A pretty name for a pretty boy."_

Dan exhales sharply.

The sound of metal on brick grates in his ears. The sound of rope on skin, the sound of loud protesting and ear-splitting screaming.

Dan's thoughts are like syrup. They stick and clump together until eventually he can't figure out individual parts.

It's horrid. He's being bombarded in the worst way by fragmented memory and thought segments, each one stabbing him through the heart as they swoop in to attack like sparrows on crack.

_I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-_

Dan repeats the words non-stop in his head, chanting them like a war cry, like a spell, like a prayer.

He knows nothing he can say or do can ever fix the disaster he caused, but Dan will be damned if he won't keep trying until the day he dies.

It all hurts, but that's okay.

It's all going to be a never ending fight, but that's also okay.

Fighting means you believe that something is worth dying for.

And in Dan's eyes, Chris always was.

_Rest in peace, old friend. Rest in peace._

_I'll meet you there one day, but first I just have to figure out how to get out of this messy world we've been dropped in._

***

_"Hey. Can I talk to you?"_

_"Always, Christine. What's up?"_

_"That's, um, actually what- oh, God. You're going to hate me."_

_"I could never. Talk to me."_

_"Shit, this is so stupid. I'm sorry, Dan."_

_"Don't apologise; you haven't done anything wrong. If you don't want to tell me, don't feel pressured to. I'm here for you. I want what's best for you. Don't worry about me."_

_"No, I need to tell you."_

_"Then take as long as you need. I'm not going anywhere."_

_"I... I'm trans. Transgender. Fuck, I'm sorry. You hate me; I know it. I'm sorry."_

_"Don't be! I'm really glad you trusted me enough to tell me. What pronouns and name do you want me to use?"_

_"Just... Chris is fine. He and him."_

_"Well, hello then, Chris."_

_"Jesus- Dan, I'm going to cry. That's so stupid, but-"_

_"It's not stupid. It's an expression of emotion. Boys cry too, you know."_

_"I know- I'll never forget you crying after we finished_ The Princess Bride _."_

_"I was drunk!"_

_"Keep telling yourself that. Seriously, though, thank you so much. I mean, I didn't think you were going to be nasty and mean about it, but there's still that... fear, I guess?"_

_"Yeah, having to come out of the closet sucks; I know first hand. Pansexual myself."_

_"So you're sexually attracted to pans."_

_"Oh my God. No! It's basically being gender-blind; it's about personality and that sort of thing. I like boys, girls, and everything in between. Ugh, it's weird. Hard to explain."_

_"I'm totally getting you a shirt that says 'I have sex with pans' for Christmas."_

_"Chris, stop!"_

***

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so fucking sorry.


End file.
